


Breathe in, Freak Out

by ToshiChan



Category: Kid Cosmic, Kid Cosmic (Cartoon)
Genre: Adoption, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Healing, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Moving On, Phobias, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29303481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToshiChan/pseuds/ToshiChan
Summary: Honestly, there’s nothing easy about life ever since George got the phone call on that warm night that there’d been a terrible car crash, how soon could he get to the hospital, what did he mean he lived a day’s drive away, didn’t he realise he was the only one who could give them the okay on what to do with the Kid?But how do you look a kid in their eyes and tell them that they’re just gonna have to get over the death of their parents and hop in the stupid car?
Relationships: Papa G (Kid Cosmic) & The Kid (Kid Cosmic)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 142





	Breathe in, Freak Out

**Author's Note:**

> I just adore this show and I wanted to write a little bit of backstory

Life changes when you lose a child, and it’s never for the better and you’ll never get better. George has to use the long, lonely drive from his junkyard in the middle of nowhere to the hospital in the middle of somewhere as time to get used to the fact that his daughter and his son-in-law are dead. Day bleeds into night and then night fades to day and it’s still not enough time.

He remembers Katie, spitfire that she was, flaming red hair a warning to anyone who wanted to cross her, refusing to stop visiting her old man just because he lived too far away for any reasonable person to consider driving out. He remembers being secretly happy about this, always glad to see his daughter and the man she loved, always chuffed to see the small boy they affectionately called Kid come tottering towards him with the happy cry of ‘Papa G’ filling the empty desert.

He did this to them. If only he’d told them to stop tiring themselves out driving down every other weekend. If only he’d said he’d make the trip more rather than waiting for them to come to him. If only he’d insisted on only getting together on birthdays and holidays.

_“I’m very sorry sir, your daughter and her husband died on the scene.”_

George watches the odd car pass his battered ute as he drives and wonders how he can live with this.

The Kid had survived but only just. The call to George had barely had time to register with him before the hospital was begging for permission to perform this complicated life saving surgery on his grandson. George had said yes, because how could you say no?

_“Do it. Save him.”_

Had they saved him? Was he driving all this way to stare down at three dead bodies?

The city rushes to meet him as the sun reaches its full height in the sky but honestly, George wishes this drive would never end. Whatever awaits him at the end of his travel is something he’d rather be driving far, far away from.

_“We’ll need you to identify the bodies…a formality…you understand.”_

Did he?

Is this something he can ever truly begin to comprehend?

_“Don’t be daft, dad. Of course we’ll come to see you. We want Kid to know his grandfather.”_

_“Well, if you’re sure Katie.”_

_“Course I’m sure. Besides, me and Rob like a good drive. It’s good for us.”_

_“And the Kid?”_

_“He’ll get used to it.”_

* * *

The Kid’s alive, hooked up to machines that are more shiny and less broken than George is used to. They beep and whir and churn and blend in seamlessly with the hustle and bustle of the hospital. Nurses check the readings, nodding in satisfaction or pursing their lips in concern. George watches them work quietly, attention split between them and Kid as he waits for his grandson to wake up.

Below them -in the very depths of the hospital- Katie and Rob lie on cold tables, waiting for a van to come and whisk them away to a place that will make them look pretty for nobody but the dirt and worms.

When Kid wakes up, George will have to tell him all this.

_If Kid wakes up._

“He will,” says a doctor.

“His vitals are good,” says a nurse.

“He’s strong,” says a resident.

Strong enough for this? Strong enough to wake up in a world where both his parents are gone? George isn’t sure anyone’s strong enough for that, let alone an eight-year-old boy.

There’s a social worker assigned to Kid’s case that keeps coming in to chat with George. As the only living relative of the Kid, it’s assumed that George will take the child home with him once Kid’s been given the all clear to leave the hospital. George assumes the same thing, which is good. Nothing worse than being on a different page to a social worker, in his experience.

“There’s no school or anything where I live,” George says, ashamed. “But it’s where Katie grew up, so I’m certified to teach him from home.”

“Good,” the social worker says. “We’d hate to have to hand the Kid over to foster care. Better to keep family together when we can.”

It’s funny really, because George’s family has crumbled to pieces around him and there’s nothing he can do to keep it together. Katie’s gone, and Rob with her and the Kid sleeps on, unaware of all of this.

“I’ll be on hand until you leave,” the social worker says. “He’ll need time to come to grips with this.”

He’ll need an eternity, but George chooses not to say that out loud.

* * *

George isn’t there when Kid wakes up.

He hears it doesn’t go well.

“There was screaming,” the social worker reports when they meet outside the room. Her cheeks are bright red and there’s a bruise forming on her forehead. Apparently she had tripped over the clock Kid had thrown onto the ground in his tearful anger and fell against the wall. “And crying.”

George shrugs. “Can’t blame him. Can you?”

“Of course not,” the social worker says. “I’ve just never had that sort of reaction before.”

“There’s nobody like Kid,” George says, and it’s a touch prideful. His grandson is a spitfire, just like his mother. “I apologise on his behalf.”

She waves him off and walks away, vanishing into the bowels of the hospital to speak to even more children like the Kid, alone and afraid and hurt. George waits outside for a bit longer, and then a bit longer after that. He’s an old man and he’s lived through a lot. There’s not a lot things in life that surprise him, not a lot of things he finds himself unready for or scared of.

Facing Kid downright terrifies him.

What will the Kid say? What will he do? Will he even want George there? Sure, George sees him more than he’d ever expected to, but the Kid’s eight and lives in a city too far away for George to ever have been a permanent figure in his life.

That’s all gone and changed now though. Now, George is going to be the only permanent thing in Kid’s life.

With a hand that trembles slightly, he opens the door.

“Kid? It’s me, Papa G,” he says, and hopes his voice is even. “I’ve ah-uh-um…I’ve come to take you home.”

“Papa G?” the Kid sits in his bed, still swamped by machines too clean and untarnished like the one’s George is used to. His eyes widen and he struggles to sit up properly. “ _Papa G!”_

“I’m here,” Georgeis crying, just like Kid is. He holds his arms out and reaches for his grandson, mindful of all the injuries. “I came, I’ve got you, I’ve got you now.”

“No!” the Kid wails and fights even as he holds onto George with a grip tighter than anything George has ever felt ins his life. “No, no, no!”

“I’m sorry, Kid. I’m so sorry.”

“Bring them back, don’t let them be gone, _don’t let them be gone!”_

“I can’t,” George holds his grandson and swears to never let go. “I’m so sorry. I can’t.”

“They’re not meant to be gone!”

No, they’re not. And nothing George can say will change that. Katie and Rob are meant to be right here, holding their son through the tears.

“I’ve got you, Kid,” he says, and hopes it helps.

He knows it doesn’t.

* * *

Honestly, there’s nothing easy about life ever since George got the phone call on that warm night that there’d been a terrible car crash, how soon could he get to the hospital, what did he mean he lived a day’s drive away, didn’t he realise he was the only one who could give them the okay on what to do with the Kid?

Nothing’s easy about this. Everything’s hard and it sucks and because George is the only one left behind old enough to understand what’s going on, it’s up to him to fix it all somehow. He has to do a lot of hard things, like tell the Kid that he has to leave all his friends behind, that they’re gonna go live in a junkyard in the middle of nowhere. He’s the one to make the Kid take his medication even when he cries and says he doesn’t want to. He has to put his foot down time and time again, take charge even though he knows it’s going to make Kid cry.

He knows it’s all necessary, he knows this. But…

But how do you look a kid in their eyes and tell them that they’re just gonna have to get over the death of their parents and hop in the stupid car?

“No,” Kid says again, and folds his arms with great difficulty across his stomach. The cast gets in the way and he winces when it jabs against the huge healing scar hidden by his shirt. George winces too. “I’m not getting in.”

“Come on, Kid,” the social worker pleads. “It’s time to go home.”

“I’m not getting in,” the Kid snaps. “You can’t make me.”

They could, really. There’s nothing stopping them from lifting him up and strapping in. The Kid’s a walking injury, he couldn’t fight back.

There’s nothing stopping them except George’s bleeding heart and the way he knows that the Kid isn’t being difficult on purpose.

“How else are you going to get home?” the social worker asks.

“Dunno,” Kid jabs a foot against the pedals of his temporary wheelchair. “Just will.”

“There’s no way you could possibly get all the way back there unless you take a car,” the social worker is losing her patience. “There’s no airport, no bus route. Nothing. It’s a day’s drive, so forget wheeling yourself there, young man. It’s the car or it’s nothing.”

Frustrated tears well up in Kid’s eyes. He doesn’t have an answer for this, George can tell. The Kid just knows he _can’t_ get in the car.

The problem is, the social worker is right. The only way George is going to get Kid home is by car.

“Kid,” George crouches down, mindless of the way his knees creak. “Kid, she’s right. The only way I can get you home is by driving you.”

“Papa G, I can’t,” Kid sobs. “I can’t do it, you can’t make me.”

“Even if I promise to be the safest driver in the world?”

“That doesn’t matter!” Kid screams. “It doesn’t matter what you do. Mum and Dad were the safest drivers too and-and-and-”

“They’re gone,” George says, bowing his head.

 _“They’re gone!”_ the Kid shoves his hands against his eyes like he can force the tears back in. “They died and they’re not coming back. They left me…”

“Oh, Kid-”

“I’m never getting in a car again.”

“That’s not logical,” the social worker cuts in.

“Don’t care, I’m not.”

“Kid,” George reaches out and takes the hand that isn’t tightly bound in a cast. “I need to get you home somehow. And I reckon you know that too, right? You understand that.”

The Kid nods, looking wary.

“So what if we made a promise?”

“A promise?”

“A good one, an unbreakable one.”

“What kind of promise?” the Kid’s suspicious but he’s listening.

“I take you home in the car. I drive the slowest I possibly can. I am as safe as can be. If I even see a car, I’ll get off the road so it can’t possibly hit us. You can even keep your eyes closed the whole time.”

“Papa G, no-”

“And then when we get home, you’ll never have to ride in a car again, never ever.”

“Never ever?” Kid stares at him.

“Never ever. Not until you’re ready.”

“But…what if I’m never ready, Papa G?”

“Then that’s okay too. Everything’s pretty close together. I’ll whip you up the fastest bike in the world and you can ride that everywhere.”

“You mean it?” Kid asks. “You promise?”

“Kid, I promise. As long as I’m around, you’ll never have to get in another car ever again.”

“And you’ll build me a bike?”

“The fastest one ever!”

The Kid looks at George’s car. He looks at it for a long time. What he’s searching for, George has no idea, but he waits patiently.

“Okay,” the Kid says finally. “We can go home now.”

“Okay,” George says with a wink. “Ready for the slowest car ride ever? I hope you know plenty of games.”

“I’m going to name the bike Spitfire,” Kid says in lieu of an answer. “And I want her to be red.”

_He remembers Katie, spitfire that she was, flaming red hair a warning to anyone who wanted to cross her…_

“That sounds like a great idea.”

“Papa G?”

“Yes, Kid?”

“Thanks for coming to get me…and for, you know, not leaving me behind.”

“Kid, as long as I’m here, you’ll never be alone.”

“And I’ll never have to get in a car again?”

“Remember, it’s a promise.”

“So if someone tries to make me, I can bite them?”

And George has to laugh at that, really he does.

Life changes when you lose a child, and it’s never for the better and you’ll never get better, until somehow you do.

**Author's Note:**

> I used the minor character death tag just because we know nothing about Kid's parents and they're only ever seen for a split second in a flashback so I didn't want to alarm anyone with the major character death tag
> 
> Thank u so much for reading, I'd love it if you left kudos or a comment xx
> 
> EDIT: someone pointed out Kid's mum has blonde hair which she totally does, oops


End file.
